


Normal is the New Extraordinary

by kazbrekkcr



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Swearing, eventually you know, if i decide to write/publish it, well they're in college at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazbrekkcr/pseuds/kazbrekkcr
Summary: You and Peter have been dating for about a year when it's time for you to meet the Avengers. Everything is going well, until one of them points out to Peter just how normal you are.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> my first published fic! i'm kind of terrified, so please don't rip me to shreds
> 
> also this is for tom holland's spider-man (because i love him) but he's 19 not 15
> 
> also also it's much more fun to read when you install the InteractiveFics extension on chrome!!

You peer up at the compound through the car windshield. It's massive, and you feel small in comparison. You wring your hands in your lap as you crawl up the long driveway and park next to some fancy cars. You look out the window at them. A Maserati? Wow, you're definitely in the wrong place.

Peter puts the car in park and shuts off the engine. The A/C stops blowing, the radio is silenced, and you're left in complete quiet. You can practically feel Peter's excitement radiating next to you.

"Are you ready?" He asks giddily, and you'd laugh at his childlike nature if you weren't so goddamn nervous. All you can do is stare at the big "A" on the building in front of you.

"Um, Peter?"

He hums, starting to gather all his things.

"What if...what if they don't like me?"

He stills, but you can't tear your eyes away.

"Of course they'll like you," he replies, and you can hear the frown in his voice. His hand rests on yours, which is clutching the armrest in a death grip.

"What if they don't?" Panic is starting to edge your voice.

Peter scoffs. "Why wouldn't they? I mean, I love you, so they should at least like you, I can't imagine why they wouldn't--"

"Peter." Your voice is just above a whisper, and he shuts his mouth. "What if they don't?" The words are quiet, but intense, and Peter finally understands.

"Y/N," he says softly. "If they don't, we turn around and go straight home, and I never see them again."

You can finally breathe deeply. Your vision clears and your hand relaxes. You look at him and reply, "You can't do that. You can't be an Avenger without talking to the Avengers."

"Then I'll only speak to them on missions, and constantly give them the cold shoulder."

A smile graces your lips and Peter grins. His excitement reappears and he practically leaps out of the car. You follow suit, at a much slower pace, hooking your bag over your shoulder. You head to the back of the car, but Peter stops you. "Someone else will grab those! Let's go meet everyone."

You turn around and take a deep breath. So you're meeting the Avengers for the first time. No big deal. You're sure Peter's talked to them about you. This won't be bad.

It'll just be terrifying.

Peter's already halfway to the door when you start walking. And he's ducked inside the door and disappeared when you reach where he was when you started. Practicing deep breaths, you step inside, instantly feeling a rush of cold air. It sends goosebumps down your arms (though it's not like they weren't there before). Your heart flip-flops in your chest as you peer around the lobby. It's enormous and you have no idea where Peter went.

Scratch that. A burst of noice comes from your right and you follow it. You come across Peter's bag and set yours down next to it, slipping your phone into your pocket. Hesitantly, you approach a big room, set up as a living room. It's filled with people - no, Avengers - all surrounding Peter, who has the biggest, most beautiful expression of awe.

You stop out of sight for a few seconds to assess the scene. Each person you look at amps up your nerves. Natasha and Clint stand on the outskirts of the circle, quietly watching everyone else with small smiles on their faces. Wanda and Vision are next to them, laughing at whatever's just been said. Tony's hand is resting on Peter's shoulder, and he looks like a proud dad. Steve, Bucky, and Sam all stand next to them. They're the ones talking, obviously teasing Peter about any number of things. Peter's face is bright red, but there's a huge smile on his face anyway.

"Ah, Miss L/N. I'm glad you've joined us."

"Holy shit!" You stumble backwards as an Irish voice comes out of nowhere. A blush starts to tint your cheeks in embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I'm F.R.I.D.A.Y., Mr. Stark's current A.I. Mr. Parker has talked about you quite a bit. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, and put a face to the name."

"Um, hi?" You reply, feeling silly talking to air even though you know F.R.I.D.A.Y. is there. "Nice to meet you too, I guess."

As your breathing starts to even and your heartbeat slows, you think you've managed to keep your shout just between you and F.R.I.D.A.Y....but naturally, you're wrong. When you turn back to the room, everybody is staring at you. You want nothing more than to leap out of sight so you can hide in shame, but that wouldn't be even a little bit cool, and you've got to start repairing your reputation immediately. So you lift a hand and give a tiny wave.

The Avengers are all looking at you, some with smirks, others with sympathetic eyes. You're not sure you can take much more when Peter breaks from the pack and runs over to you. He gives you a broad smile and takes your hand, pulling you into the room. He stops you in front of everybody, and, squeezing your hand tight, says, "Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is...everyone."

There are a few seconds of agonizing silence before everybody springs at you. Steve reaches you first and holds out a hand. You just stare at it. "Hi. I'm Steve," he introduces himself and you have to internally slap yourself to _do something_. You grab his hand and shake it too hard.

"I know!" You're practically shouting. Steve smiles as you begin to blush. "Um, I mean, nice to meet you." Everyone else takes turns introducing themselves, and you're starstruck.

"So this is the one who's been keeping you out of trouble," Clint says, slapping Peter's shoulder.

Peter pouts. "I can keep myself out of trouble."

"Wanna bet?" You mutter as Sam shakes your hand, and Clint bursts into surprised laughter. You feel encouraged, so you continue, "I once found him in a dumpster outside my building. Don't ask me why it was my building and not his own. I had to help him out, inside the building, and up to my room. He got blood on my clothes and my white rug."

"I told you I would get you a new one!"

"Oh yeah? Then where is it?" You glance at him with a smirk. He sticks his tongue out at you and you laugh.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna like you," Clint says as he shakes your hand, the last one to do so.

You're beaming brighter than the sun.

Fifteen minutes later, you're sitting on the couch, smushed between Peter and Steve, and the Avengers are interrogating you.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Oh, an older woman." Sam wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. Both you and Peter go bright red as everyone laughs.

"What do you do?"

"I go to school with Peter."

"How did you first meet him?"

"Which time?"

Wanda's eyebrows furrow. "You met him first more than once?"

"Well," you start, "technically I met Spider-Man first. I didn't meet Peter until the next day." Everyone just stares at you, so you elaborate. "He saved me from my very first mugging. It shocked the hell out of me - and the muggers - since we were in Manhattan and everybody knew Spider-Man worked solely in Queens. But we all know Peter and I go to E.S.U., so obviously now Spider-Man works downtown. That was last September, right at the beginning of my sophomore year and his freshman.

"I met Peter the next day, the first day of school. We were paired as chemistry partners. It was a required class, but I'd skipped it freshman year because I hate science. I obviously wasn't any better at it as a sophomore, so Peter here had to carry me through the course."

You flash Peter a smile and he smiles back. Around you, the Avengers "awe" almost collectively. Peter turns smug while you blush and duck your head. Natasha's laughing as she asks the next question. "What are you majoring in?"

"Journalism."

"Why?" This one comes from Tony. You're somewhat intimidated - he's Peter's father-figure for heaven's sake - so you clutch Peter's hand a little tighter.

"Well..." You nervously muse, praying to get the question right. "I think it's time for the news to change. Everything is so prejudicially charged; nothing is ever truly without bias. I want to bring it back to what it was: something to tell people what's happening, objectively, rather than something to be commented on, which is what it is now."

Someone whistles. "Good answer," Peter whispers and you smile reflexively. Even Tony looks a little impressed.

"Let's get down to the real business," Sam says, a mischievous smile on his face, and your anxiety skyrockets. You squeeze Peter's hand, hard.

"Okay!" He yelps, standing up quickly. "That's enough. I think I'll..." He looks down at you for direction. You mouth, "tour," and he gets the idea. "I'm gonna give Y/N a tour of the compound now." He pulls you off the couch in a flash. "We'll see you later!" He throws the words over his shoulder as he drags you out of the room.

You can hear the laughter down the hall. "Peter," you yell out, "I think we can stop running now."

"Oh," Peter says as he slows. "I guess you're right."

Catching your breath, you reach his side. "Well, I don't have to worry about them not liking me."

"I told you so," Peter teases and you lightly punch his arm. He fakes pain. "I call abuse!"

Your jaw drops. "Oh yeah? Well, that's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you now!"

He takes off, but forgets that you're holding hands. Holding his hand tight and planting your feet, you're dragged across the floor as Peter runs. Thankful your shoes have absolutely no traction, you laugh loudly as he pulls you down the hall and around a corner. You grab his hand with your free one and only swerve a little as you turn, not even close to the wall.

"This has to be the fastest tour I've ever been on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you like my daredevil reference?


	2. Exposed

A week later, you and the Avengers have bonded quite nicely. You somehow have a small, individual connection with almost everyone. For example:

Despite your distaste for science in any form, you're utterly fascinated by Tony's innovations. You like to visit his lab while he's working, and watch him combine random pieces of tech to create something amazing. It doesn't hurt that Tony narrates everything he does, with just a hint of humor - and you're really glad you didn't have to tell him you wouldn't understand otherwise. Tony finds you such good company that he lets you try his new inventions before anybody else. It's rough at first - you almost burn a hole through the wall - but after he starts giving you direction, it goes pretty well.

And although you're not very athletic, you bond with Clint over his specialty: archery. You've had some practice - it's one of those activities summer camps always seem to have - but you can't hit anywhere near the center. Clint is delighted to teach you how to aim, giving you advice as well as tips and tricks. And with his help, you make your first bullseye. He's so proud and happy that he doesn't notice the type of arrow he hands you next, and you both stare in shock as the target bursts into flames. But at least you hit the bullseye.

And you've found a kindred spirit in Wanda, who is passionate about all the same things you are. The two of you have numerous discussions about social justice and the fight for minorities' rights. You agree on every issue, and it's amazing to talk with someone who understands what you believe in. Wanda is so knowledgable and almost loses herself when she talks about these things, so you just soak up all the information she gives you. You might've already annoyed everybody in the compound with your talks, but neither of you really care.

There's just one person you can't crack: Vision. And you've definitely tried. He just doesn't want to talk to you, it seems, evident after a perplexing encounter. You're in the middle of telling him about trying Tony's latest invention, when he stands and just glides away, right through the wall. You're left with your mouth hanging open, speechless. That's how Peter finds you.

"Y/N, are you okay?" He asks from the doorway. You look at him and he's got his eyebrows furrowed, staring at you like you've grown another head.

You begin to sputter. "Vision--he just--I can't believe--he just left while I was talking!"

"I don't think he'd do that."

Your jaw drops. "Oh, yeah? F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

After your initial less-than-stellar introduction, F.R.I.D.A.Y. has really grown on you. She - it? - seems to be everywhere, and recording everything, and that really comes in handy. Plus, she can be quite sarcastic when no one else is around.

"Mr. Parker, Miss L/N is correct. Approximately two minutes ago, Vision left the room as Miss L/N was describing her experience with Mr. Stark's newest helmet design."

"Yeah, that was super cool--but not the point." You bring yourself back to the real topic. "See? F.R.I.D.A.Y. backs up my story."

"She always backs up your story," Peter mumbles as he sits on the couch next to you.

"Because I'm always right!" You're still upset, but Peter just laughs and leans over to kiss your cheek. "I know, babe." You huff in irritation, but he distracts you by pulling you close to him and showing you the premiere trailer for _Ready Player One_.

* * *

However, it's still bugging you a couple days later, so you go to your newest confidante: Sam. You've found him to be the one you identify with the most, with his teasing nature and laid-back personality. It's easy to talk with him, and he usually has the best advice.

You find him in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the paper at the breakfast bar. "Hey, Sam?"

He looks over his shoulder at you. "What's up, kiddo?"

You roll your eyes - _not a kid_ \- but forge ahead. "I was wondering if I could get your thoughts on something."

"Step into my office," he replies, patting the open seat next to him. You walk into the room and sit as he folds the paper and places it on the other side of the counter. He lifts his cup and takes a long drink before saying, "Go for it."

"Well..." You're apprehensive. This whole situation hasn't been great on your nerves, and you're tired of being so self-conscious when you're with the whole group. It's even been keeping you up at night, your mind spewing out self-deprecating comments, as you stare at the clock and Peter sleeps soundly next to you.

Sam's voice goes quiet. "Is everything okay? Is Peter--"

"No!" You burst out. "No, Peter's great. He can be a little oblivious sometimes, but he's not the problem."

"Then who is?"

"Um, well, a couple of days ago, I was in the living room, telling Vision about how Tony had let me try out the new design for his helmet - which was so cool, by the way, it had night vision and enhanced imaging and this amazing targeting system--Sorry. Not the point. So I'm halfway through my story when he stands and just leaves the room! As I was talking! And even though F.R.I.D.A.Y. proved my story to Peter, he didn't seem to care."

"Mhm," Sam hums, but you keep going, babbling now.

"I really don't understand what happened. I don't think I said anything offensive? I've replayed the conversation - if you could call it that - but I can't find anything wrong with my story. Sure, I was a bit overzealous, but that hardly seems rude. And I've been racking my brain but I can't figure it out and it's kind of been keeping me from sleeping and Peter hasn't seemed to notice--"

"Y/N!" Sam cuts you off, and you clamp your mouth shut.

"Sorry," you say quietly, looking at his coffee.

Sam laughs and pats your hand gently. "There's nothing to be sorry for. You were just talking a little bit too fast and veering from the subject. I wanted to stop you before you ran out of air." You nod, relaxing a little. "It doesn't sound like you said anything wrong. I really wouldn't believe that you'd be offensive in any way; that's definitely not you." Your pride grows a little. You've only been here two weeks, and Sam already knows you this well. "And being enthusiastic isn't a bad thing. Vision's never been upset about that before."

You look up at him. "Then what could it be?"

He sighs. "I wish I could tell you, Y/N, but I don't understand it any more than you do. It just seems like Vision was being rude, though he's usually not. But I'd be more inclined to place blame on him before you. I've only known him for a short time, and it's still difficult to make sense of him."

You deflate a little. "Oh. Okay." You stand and move to leave. "Thanks anyways, I guess."

"Y/N," Sam says, and you turn back to him. His eyes are sympathetic. "I'm sorry that happened. But stop beating yourself up over it. You're great and everyone here knows it. Peter fell in love with you for a reason, you know."

His words warm your heart and you smile, some anxiety melting away. Sam smiles back and you leave, reminding yourself that Peter does love you and the rest of the Avengers seem to like you too. So what if Vision doesn't? Nobody can like everybody. Plus, you can just dislike him right back.

* * *

The next day, you're light on your feet as you skip through the compound, looking for Peter. You just caught Steve and Bucky listening to some old records, and when you peeked into the room, found them dancing and laughing. Without thinking, you charged into the room and asked them to teach you. They agreed and took turns teaching and practicing a few easy moves with you. Pretty soon, you could officially swing dance for up to thirty seconds.

You plan to drag Peter out of the compound - since you've just been cooped up here - and to an old-style speakeasy bar, where you can show off your new moves and impress him. Finally, you spot him in the living room, engrossed in some book about physics theories, and you're about to enter when Vision glides through the wall opposite you.

You're not sure why you do it, but you quickly step aside and behind a wall. Hesitantly peering out, you watch as Vision sits next to Peter, who closes his book and puts it on the coffee table.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"Yes, Miss L/N?"

"Would you do me a favor and somehow let me listen to their conversation? Also, you can call me Y/N."

"Of course, Miss L/N. Also, I'm not allowed to call anyone by their first name. Mr. Stark put that under my courtesy program."

"I'll have to talk to him about that," you mutter as F.R.I.D.A.Y. tunes you in.

"Peter," Vision says. "May I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Peter replies, turning to face the android.

"About Y/N--"

"Oh, she's great, isn't she?" Peter gushes. "I'm so happy she's gotten along so well with everyone."

You fall a little more in love with your boyfriend.

"Yes, everybody seems to find her very...pleasant," Vision replies. "But I wanted to ask: why are you with her, when she seems to have no...exceptional qualities?"

Your jaw drops and Peter's eyebrows furrow. There are hints of outrage and disbelief as he asks, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you understand," Vision continues, either not noticing or choosing not to Peter's mood change. "Y/N is very nice, and fairly likable. But she is not the brightest nor the most athletic, and she doesn't seem to have any hidden talents. She is not, for lack of a better word, super, like you and I, or any of the team. She is just...normal."

Peter's voice is a growl. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not usually, but I find it odd that you choose to be with her when you are...superior, in so many ways. I would imagine your relationship to be quite boring. She just does not match you, on any level."

You can't breathe.

You can't breathe, and your vision is swimming. You stumble back against the wall. "Turn it off," you gasp, and the voices disappear.

"Miss L/N--"

"Don't," you choke out and stagger forward, no longer feeling real. This is your nightmare coming alive. It's your deepest fear being revealed. It's your heart, being laid out for everyone to see.

You start to run, turning random corners in an effort to get as far away from your destruction as possible. You don't know where to go. You can't go to your room; you share it with Peter. You can't be in public; you can't risk anyone seeing you like this. You frantically try to open the doors around you. Most are locked, but eventually you come across a broom closet. You dive inside and close the door behind you. It's pitch-black and you sit on something sharp; you pick it up and throw it away. Bringing your knees to your chest and dropping your head into your arms, you fracture and fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was originally going to add peter's reaction but i've decided to use that later - so don't worry, you will find out!
> 
> p.s. i'm sure vision is not like this really. but i needed someone who thinks more logically than emotionally, and he was the only one who made sense


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 8/8/17 - i didn't feel like i'd spent enough time editing this before i published it, and wanted to fix it after writing and publishing the fourth chapter. it's much shorter since i've cut most of the information that's said in the next chapter, in better ways. i think this will enhance the story and lead better into the next chapter.

The glow from your phone brightens the cramped broom closet enough to see it has to be the smallest room in the compound. It's been a few hours since the Vision Incident. You spent the first two crying your eyes out, and the last one using the Internet to cheer up. Fortunately, it's working. Every dog on WeRateDogs™ makes you smile, and once you go through the entirety of the account's tweets, you're feeling better. What doesn't feel better is your body - your butt is asleep, you keep hitting your elbows on the walls next to you, and you can't fully stretch out your legs. You turn on the flashlight and slowly stand up, groaning and wincing as you move your sore limbs. Before you step out the door, you wipe under your eyes, use some random toilet paper to blow your nose, and clear your throat of phlegm. Satisfied - as much as you can be, without the use of a bathroom or mirror - you slowly open the door and peek out into the hall. It's empty, so you quickly dart out and close the door behind you.

If F.R.I.D.A.Y. sees you, she doesn't say anything.

You make your way back to your room, taking the long way so you can really be sure you don't look like you just broke down. When you arrive, you find Peter sitting on the bed, staring at the ground and nervously wringing his hands. He looks up at you when you open the door.

"Hi--" You barely get the word out before he's hugging you, tucking your head into his shoulder. It's so sweet that you almost start crying again. "Oh, well, hello to you too."

"Y/N," Peter says, sounding utterly relieved. "Where were you? I was worried."

Even though Vision insulted your intelligence, you're still quick on your feet. "I was just outside," you reply, "walking around the grounds. You know, this place is a fortress. We should explore some of the nearby town."

Peter leans back and places his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face. "But you're okay?" He asks.

It's the hardest thing in the world to answer, "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Peter sighs and hugs you again. Over his shoulder, you look at the clock. It's nearing seven o'clock, and you can hear your stomach rumbling. Peter breaks away. "Let's go get something to eat," he suggests, and with a smile he adds, "I know just the place."

* * *

The next day, you make your way to Tony's lab. Peter had taken you to a small Italian restaurant in the next town over. It was exactly what you needed: just the two of you, Peter was extra attentive and loving, and the food was delicious. You eventually dropped the confused-about-his-actions act, and he didn't seem to notice. What you loved most was that you had meaningful conversation about topics that were close to your heart: while you didn't talk about your deepest insecurities, you came pretty damn close, and Peter revealed some of his darkest thoughts about his super identity. It felt like you two had connected on a deeper level, reached a new level in your relationship, and you haven't felt closer to him.

You find Tony hard at work, creating something new, so you slip in and silently sit down to watch. He starts up his narration and you smile. Fifteen minutes pass before Tony sets down his tools and takes off his goggles.

You snort. "You always have marks on your face from those. Maybe you should make a pair that doesn't do that."

Tony bounces off his chair and darts over to his desk. "I'm making a note of that," he says as he scribbles on a notepad. "It's a good idea. Simple, but could save thousands of high school kids from public humiliation." You laugh a little and he smiles back at you. "So, is there a reason you came here, or did you just come to watch?"

"Oh. Yes, I wanted to talk to you about F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s courtesy program."

"What about it?"

"I think you should let her use people's first names. You know, make her seem more like a person and not a robot who's forced to constantly be polite."

"But she is supposed to be polite."

"Right, and I'm not saying change the whole program. Just remove that one part."

Tony sits in his desk chair and doesn't reply.

"Tony," you say, "is there a reason you won't?" He avoids your gaze, and it hits you. "Oh my god! You like being called 'Mr. Stark' all the time!"

His index finger traces circles on top of his desk. "It might make me feel important," he finally says.

That finally makes you laugh wholeheartedly, and he turns to look at you, a sheepish smile on his face. You manage to say, "And the hoards of important people and reporters that already do that aren't enough?"

"I like to hear it when I'm not in public, too. But I'll change it. For you."

With a smile, you jump off your chair. "Thank you," you reply, turning to leave. Tony stops you by calling your name. You turn back around. "Yeah?"

"How have you been lately? You're okay?" He's studying you.

"Yeah," you answer slowly. "I'm okay. Are _you_ okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just wanted to make sure you were too, is all," he replies, still looking at you closely.

And then you understand. Peter must've come to Tony after the Vision Incident. You wonder what was said as you say with a half-smile, "I'm great. Why wouldn't I be?"

Tony nods and you escape the room, almost wishing you could talk to someone about it too.

Even though Peter was the ultimate boyfriend yesterday - and still is today - you can't shake how Vision's words affect you. They were mean and they were blunt and they were rude - but they were true. And they sit in the back of your mind, shadowing everything you do. It's time to get rid of them; you need something that will push them from your mind permanently. But you don't know what, and don't know how to talk to anyone about it. So they stay with you. Your constant companions.

* * *

You pass the windows that overlook the gym and glance inside to see Natasha and Clint sparring. They're evenly matched; every hit is blocked and every kick misses. It usually takes forever for one of them to rise victorious, but you must be catching the end, because it doesn't take long for Natasha to pin Clint, her foot just slightly touching his throat.

That's when the idea strikes.

You race downstairs and pass Clint in the doorway. You guys nod to each other as you pass, and you continue inside, grateful to find Natasha alone. She's standing at the bench, rummaging through her gym bag.

"Natasha," you call out.

She glances over her shoulder. "Hey, Y/N," she calls back, lifting a water bottle from the bag and taking a long drink. You quickly walk over to her and stand a couple steps away, bouncing on your feet. This is exactly what you need. You just need her to say yes.

"I wanna ask you a favor," you say nervously, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

Natasha sits on the bench and looks at you with an open expression. "What is it?" You stand there, balling your hands into fists, a hopeful expression on your face. Here goes nothing.

"I want to you to teach me how to fight."


	4. Consequences

"You want me to _what?_ "

"I want you to teach me to fight," you reply, punching the air a few times, your form miserably wrong. "You know, how to punch, self-defense, light sparring." Natasha arches an eyebrow and you roll your eyes. "It's not like I want you to turn me into an assassin. I just want to know that I can protect myself if I need to."

"Isn't that Peter's job?"

"He can't always be around to save me. What if he's on a mission with all of you and I'm randomly mugged in the city? I want to know that I don't have to lose all my money and possessions."

Natasha sighs as you start bouncing on the balls of your feet. "I don't understand, Y/N. Why do you want to know how to fight now? You've been here a month and this has never come up before."

You shrug but avoid her gaze. "I'm bored. I need something to do."

"I'm not going to teach you and possibly make Peter angry just because you're bored." Her voice goes quiet. "I know there's something more. Something you're not telling me."

Well, she isn't a superhero for nothing. You stop moving, and with a sigh, sit next to her on the bench. You stare ahead as you think. She leaves the room in silence.

You swore you would never tell anybody, especially an Avenger. Vision hurt you at your core, and though you act fine, the words still sting. You don't want to draw more attention to your normalcy, and you really don't want to reveal that you're insecure about it. It'd be easier to lock the words deep inside you and walk away from this idea while you still can. But this is the one thing that feels like it might take that sting away. You could punch away the anger, the hurt, your own insecurities. You could make yourself stronger and healthier. It wouldn't bring you to the same level as Peter and the rest of the Avengers - nothing short of you being affected by chemicals or radiation or an otherworldly power would - but you'd get closer, and that would be enough.

"A couple of days ago, I overheard a conversation between Peter and Vision." You keep your eyes trained on the far wall. The words feel uncomfortable and you have to spit them out. "Vision wanted to ask him a question. He asked Peter why he was with me even though I'm 'normal'. Like because I have no 'super' qualities, I'm lesser than all of you. He didn't understand why Peter loves me when we're so poorly matched. In everything: brains, brawn, talent. He said that he assumed our relationship would be 'boring' because Peter is so much more...just more than I am."

Tears are in your eyes but you don't let them fall. You've already cried too much over this. "It hurt more than I can put into words. Everything he said was - is - true. I'm not at Peter's level, in any way. What's stopping him from realizing this and--and--"

Natasha is quiet. "Peter wouldn't--"

"I know," you cut her off. Your voice is weary. "But it was like Vision revealed my own deepest insecurities to me. I like who I am, but not all of it. I've never wanted to be the damsel in distress character, yet here I am, permanently cast. It's time to change that. I can't make my brain understand complicated things better, and I can't magically discover some secret talent that will change my life. But I can change physically. I can give myself some power."

Natasha mutters, "So that's why Peter lost control."

You have no idea what she's talking about. "What?" She shakes her head and doesn't reply.

The two of you are silent for a while. You're trembling slightly. You haven't admitted that to anyone...ever. And now you've told an Avenger.

Finally, Natasha sighs. "I can't believe I'm doing this but...sure. I'll teach you to fight." You look at her, a small, hopeful smile on your face. Her eyes are sympathetic but firm. "But only the basics. I'm not teaching you how to kill or anything like that. Just enough to get you out of any sticky situations by yourself."

"That's fine," you rush to say. "That's perfect."

"Okay," she replies with a nod. "We'll start tomorrow. 9 A.M. sharp. Eat a good breakfast. Get a good night's rest. Don't stay up half the night with Peter." She gives you a knowing look and you blush. "I'm doing you a favor here, and that means you have to work hard. You can't come back tomorrow and say you've changed your mind. You want power, you gotta work for it."

"I understand," you say, giving her a small salute. She gives a look and turns to walk away. "Natasha." She looks back over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Don't tell Peter. You know him; he wouldn't approve. So just, keep it under wraps for now."

She turns back around and walks away, throwing "You gotta tell him sometime" over her shoulder. You watch her and pray that you don't have to.

* * *

A month crawls by. You work with Natasha five days out of seven, leaving two for rest. It's usually the same routine: breakfast at 8, warm-up at 9, followed by a rotating cycle of workouts - cardio, strength, sparring, etc. It's a grueling three hours, Natasha is a tough teacher, and you're utterly exhausted when it's over, but you finally understand the benefits of working out. You learn how to punch, kick, throw someone to the ground, and force a gun from someone's hand (though Natasha doesn't let you use it after that). You can spar with Natasha for up to a few minutes before she pins you, which is extraordinary as far as you're concerned. At the beginning, you weren't even able to go five seconds.

Luckily for you, Peter's days are so full that he doesn't notice how much time you're spending in the gym. Tony took him even further under his wing, and they spend hours upon hours in his lab, working on something so top-secret that even you don't know what it is. They get so focused, sometimes you have to force them out, so they can get basic necessities - food, water, sleep, sunshine. Even though it means you and Peter spend less time together, it also means you don't have to lie to him, something you hate to do (and are pretty bad at). Still, you're with him when you can be, whether that means sitting on the bathroom floor, telling him about your day while he's showering, or joining him for outside runs around the compound. You make sure to stay a little bit behind - though you probably could match him, since he doesn't use super-speed for these kinds of runs - to keep up the illusion that nothing has changed.

It doesn't fool him, though. As the month draws to a close, leaving just one more before you have to return to school, Peter starts to mention your physical changes. Small things, like noticing that you've never been happier, or that your appetite has changed for the healthier. It worries you a little, but not enough to be too concerned.

Until one day, when Peter sits you down in your shared room with a resolute expression, and asks, "What's going on?"

You feign confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you! Don't get me wrong, I love that you're happier than ever before. But, Y/N, you've changed a lot this past month. I just want to know what's going on."

"I don't think I've changed that much." You avoid his eyes by looking in your lap, wringing your hands.

To your horror, he starts listing. Literally, with his fingers. "You have more energy, your muscle has grown, your figure has shrunk. You actually choose to take the stairs. You can remember better than you have in your life. Your appetite has completely changed - I mean, since when do you like raw coconut?"

"I've always liked coconut--"

"You know what I mean." You still don't look at him. He sighs and grabs your hands with his, intertwining your fingers. "Y/N, we don't keep secrets from each other. I don't understand what's happening with you. This isn't you, not the you I know. Not the you I fell in love with."

"No," you say quietly, more to yourself than him, "I'm better."

Peter sucks in a breath. He places two fingers under your chin and lifts your head up so you can meet his gaze. "Y/N, I love you. You know I'll support you, especially if you think it will improve you or your life. And you can tell me anything. But you need to know that I loved you before all of these changes. It's not like I was on the fence for a while and then when your body started improving, I decided, 'That's it, now I can love you'. I fell in love with _you_ \- your smile, your laugh, your sarcasm. Your personality and your heart. You - not your body."

His eyes search yours and you fall into them, your defense melting with his words. Before you speak, you break eye contact and look away. You're going to tell him the truth, and it won't end well.

"I'm, um," you stammer, nerves bubbling to the surface. "I'm training with Natasha." Peter's silent for a minute, and you think you're in the clear when--

"You're doing _what?!_ "

You cringe at the tone and volume of his voice. Somehow your voice gets smaller. "Natasha's been teaching me some self-defense."

"Natasha's teaching you how to _fight?_ " He stands up and starts pacing. You can tell that he's furious, anger practically boiling over. You've seen it before - but it's never been directed at you. "Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?"

"I just want to know how to protect myself," you defend. Sure, it was wrong to keep a secret from Peter, and you can understand him being wary of Natasha's teaching, but he's focusing more on the fact that you're learning how to fight at all.

"That's my job!"

"I don't want it to be!"

He looks at you, your loud voice surprising you both. "It was cute when we started dating. What's more romantic than your crush coming to your rescue and swinging you home safely? But it's been a year, Peter. I don't want to have to rely on you every single time something bad happens. You have a whole city to save! I should be able to save myself. I would've thought you'd be happy about that."

"I don't want you getting into anything that's too much for you! Fighting can imply that you know more than you actually do. I'm not okay with the idea of you trying to fight your way out of something and ending up bleeding and bruised because they had more experience and fought back harder."

"I think I'm capable of distinguishing those kinds of situations, Peter. I know my limits; I know when to stop and wait for you if I have to. But if I can save myself from something like being mugged, hell yeah I'm gonna do it."

You're glaring at each other, fists clenched, bodies stiff with anger and indignation. Silence fills the room; it crackles with tension. It's like the air between you and Peter is charged with something more violent than electricity.

His next words shock you to the bone. "I want you to stop training. Immediately."

Your jaw drops at his audacity to order you around. Your relationship has always been about balance, the give and take. You've never given any kind of command, just loving, if pushy, guidance. That Peter would choose to start acting like your boss now, when you've started gaining some power, is unbelievable.

Your reply is equally as cold. "That's not your decision to make." And you storm out of the room, leaving Peter to fume, speechless and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you're still enjoying this, it's getting there


	5. Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to update! i had a hell of a time writing this chapter, and i hope i did the story justice. also, i edited chapter three and believe it flows into chapter four much better.

After the blowup, the only place you could think to go was the gym. You spent hours there, demolishing a punching bag until it looked like Steve's work, though it took much longer. But you had enough anger and fury and resentment channeling into your fists that you didn't really care.

When you got back to your room, it was empty. Being the gentleman that he is, Peter let you keep the bed. You didn't know where he had gone, but you were happy to be alone the first night - that Peter knew enough to stay away. And it was fine the second night, since you still resented what he said. But by the third, a small part of you was missing him. You missed his warmth, and his breathing, and the way he would wrap his arm around you to keep you close throughout the night. You lay awake until the early hours of the morning, staring at the blinking light on the smoke detecter.

Apparently, Peter couldn't sleep either. Around 3 A.M., you heard the door creak open and spotted him sneaking in. You pretended to be asleep, and tried not to flinch when you felt the bed shift with weight and the covers move. He settled in and you could feel his eyes on you as he debated something. It took a minute, but his arm slid around your waist and gently pulled until your back was flush against his chest. You didn't stir, and within minutes, Peter's breathing was deep and even. You closed your eyes and smiled at the familiar sensation of Peter's body fit together with yours, and soon enough, you were in a deep sleep too.

Part of you thought maybe this was the white flag and Peter was surrendering. But when you woke up the next morning, the bed was cold and empty, like Peter had never even been there. And when you went to the kitchen for some breakfast and found him drinking coffee at the table, he didn't acknowledge you in the slightest. Didn't even look up from his phone.

You felt sick to your stomach. Peter was his old self just last night, and now he was ignoring you. Closing the cabinet, you quickly left the room. You needed away from him, away from the team. You needed out. So you left for a day trip and didn't tell a soul.

* * *

You press three fingers to your cheek and wince. A look in your phone's front-facing camera confirms that the redness and swelling have not gone down in the past two minutes, and a look at the time confirms that you're back at the compound just in time for dinner. For once, you're annoyed by the fact that the Avengers seem to like eating together. You take a deep breath. You have no idea what you're walking into.

You walk up the front stairs and into the building. You can hear talking and laughter from down the hall as you hang up your bag and slip off your shoes.

"Welcome back, Y/N. Everyone is in the dining room, ready and waiting for you. Would you like me to tell Peter to grab some ice for your cheek?"

"No!" You quickly shout. Thankfully, no one heard you. Your volume lowers. "No, F.R.I.D.A.Y., I can handle it."

"Very well. Enjoy your meal." Detecting the sarcastic tone, you roll your eyes and say, "Thanks."

You creep down the hall, dread pooling in your stomach. You really don't want to face Peter, and you _really_ don't want to do it in front of everyone. But you have to face it sometime, and it's better to do it sooner rather than later. You think. You reach just outside the doorway, take another deep breath, and step inside.

"Hey, Y/N!" Steve sees you first, but his smile melts away. Everyone else's attentions follow his and the room quiets quicker than the speed of light.

"Y/N!" Peter leaps up from the table, knocking his chair back a few feet, and rushes over to you. His hands cup your cheeks as he inspects the wound. You cringe as his thumb brushes over it. His face is full of worry and concern.

It's beautiful.

You wave a hand casually. "I'm fine," you say, both to Peter and the rest of the room. No one says anything, but Sam springs up and runs into the kitchen, presumably to get ice. Peter doesn't acknowledge your words and carefully leads you to your chair. When you sit, he kneels next to you, now inspecting the rest of your body.

"Peter, I'm really okay," you reassure. He looks back up at your face and locks eye contact.

"What happened?" His voice is low and serious. It feels like it's just meant for you, even though the whole room is listening. Sam comes back and hands you an freezing icepack covered with a towel. You press it to your cheek and hiss at the pain. Peter is staring at you intently. With a sigh, you start to explain.

"Well, I needed to get out of here, so I went to town. I just walked up their main street, browsing the little shops and looking at antiques--"

"Wait," Peter interrupts. "How did you get there?"

"I biked. So I was finishing up and walking to where I left the bike, when this guy jumped out in front of me. He had a gun and demanded that I give him my purse. I was kind of in shock at first, and didn't really move, so he gave me a mean right hook. Thus," you say, motioning to your cheek. "But it brought me back to the moment and I was finally able to do something. So I used what Natasha taught me and knocked the gun from his hand, punched him in the nose, and kicked him in the groin. That brought him down and I ran to the bike, unlocked it, and sped off. When I looked back, he was still on the ground, clutching both his groin and nose."

Someone whistles, and the room breaks into shouting and applause. You glance at Natasha, and she's watching you with a small but proud smile. You're happy...until you turn your attention back to Peter, whose expression has gone ominous. He stands up and stalks to the other end of the room, his mood darkening everyone else's.

"Peter," you say softly. He turns to look at you and you flinch back at the pure anger on his face.

"Y/N, this is _exactly_ why I didn't want you to learn to fight."

You try to stay calm. "But I'm okay, the training paid off--"

"But what if hadn't? What if the whole thing had gone horribly wrong? You would be lying on that street, probably bleeding, definitely bruised, and none of us would know. You'd be all alone out there!"

"Yeah, but things didn't go wrong! It went well! In fact, if I didn't know how to fight, I'd still have this wound and I would've had to give over my purse."

"I would rather that have happened than the prospect of something else."

"Peter," you say slowly. "Natasha's training helped me today. I stood up for myself and I'm okay. I don't understand why you're so angry."

"But there was still a chance of you not being okay!" Peter bursts out. The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair angrily. "Y/N, the idea that something could've happened today and I'd have no idea about it... You could've died, and I wouldn't know!"

"But I didn't!" You shout back. "I didn't and I'm okay and nothing happened!"

Peter sighs in frustration and unclenches his fists. His face turns tired and sad. "That's not the point," he replies quietly, and sits back down.

It's sufficient to say that dinner is extremely awkward.

* * *

You're reading as you walk into the living room, carrying a glass of pink lemonade in the other hand. You pause to finish the paragraph, and then look up to see Peter, closing his computer and gathering the papers on the coffee table in front of him. Finally getting around to his summer homework, you note. Good thing you don't have to nag him about that.

You know, if you guys were speaking.

He shuffles everything into one messy pile and clutches it at his side. He stands and walks determinedly for the other door.

"Don't go." The words come out of nowhere. You have no control over them. "You don't have to go."

Peter stops and stiffens. He doesn't turn around. "I--" The word comes out pained, but he clears his throat and starts again. "I do."

"Peter." You can't mask the ache in your voice. "Come on. It's been a week."

He drops his free arm to his side, hand squeezed into a fist. You watch as his knuckles go white, one by one. His voice is quiet. "Are you still training?"

And there it is. You stand up straighter, trying to convince yourself that you have some backbone. "Yes."

He's silent for a moment, and you let yourself hope - foolishly - that he's going to apologize. That he's realized he's overreacting and it's time for him to come home.

"Then I have nothing to say." He walks from the room and disappears around the corner.

With a sigh, you make your way into the room. You place your glass on the empty coffee table and collapse on the empty couch. You lean back and try to read, but you don't see a word.

* * *

Natasha finds you not in the gym, but in your room - which is starting to feel like just _your_ room, since Peter hasn't spent a night there since the Dinner Fiasco. You're sitting on the bed, staring glassy-eyed at your laptop. A closer look shows that it's a summer assignment, nothing written but a sentence. The cursor blinks, waiting for words, but you have none to give.

"Y/N," Natasha says quietly, awkwardly, from the doorway. You snap out of your stupor and look to her.

"Oh, hi," you reply, your voice still worlds away. You clear your throat to make it come back to this earth. "Come on in. I was just...trying to work," you sigh, closing the computer and setting it on the nightstand. Natasha glides through the room and gently sits next to you on the bed.

Her posture is stiff but her eyes are sympathetic. You get the feeling that she doesn't do this very often. "Are you okay?" She asks.

You let the words hang for a minute. "I don't know," you finally answer, fingers playing with the comforter under your legs.

The room is silent. All you can hear is the A/C blowing in. Your eyes gloss over again. Natasha notices.

"Penny for your thoughts," she murmurs, bringing you back to reality.

There's only one thing on your mind. "Peter," you breathe.

"You miss him," Natasha offers. It's not a question.

"Of course I do." Your voice is pained. "But I don't know how to get him back."

"I can think of one thing."

You look at her with a frown. "I don't want to give that up. If Peter's the kind of guy who demands that of me, then maybe I don't know him after all."

"But you do know him," Natasha says plainly. "And he's not. So he must have a reason."

"What reason could possibly explain his behavior?"

Natasha doesn't answer right away. And when she speaks, it's not even to you. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., I think it's time to show Y/N what happened between Peter and Vision."

Your television switches on and up comes a perfect picture of the living room, from a high angle. Peter and Vision sit on the couch, facing each other. Your heart jumps into your throat.

"Skip anything she heard before. Just show the important part." Natasha stands and looks back at you. "I think this will help you understand Peter's reasoning." And then she leaves the room, leaving you with a video of one of the worst days of your life.

You stare at the screen and take some deep breaths. Push the anger, sadness, and shame down. Calm yourself.

"Okay, F.R.I.D.A.Y. I'm ready."

* * *

_"...She is just...normal."_

_Peter's voice is a growl. "Is that a bad thing?"_

_"Not usually, but I find it odd that you choose to be with her when you are...superior, in so many ways. I would imagine your relationship to be quite boring. She just does not match you, on any level."_

_"Why would you say something like that?" Peter stands up, hands curled into fists, jaw clenched tight. "I thought you were my friend."_

_Vision is baffled, still sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, the picture of nonchalance. "I am your friend. I would think warning you about Y/N's inadequacies would be helpful and therefore appreciated--"_

_Peter hurls himself at Vision. The android isn't expecting it, and doesn't dematerialize. Peter punches him, which probably hurts him more than Vision, but he doesn't seem to care. He's shouting._

_"Inadequacies? How dare you imply that there's something wrong with her. That she's lesser than you and me, than any of us! She's worth more than this team combined. She's worth more than the whole goddamn planet!"_

_Peter punches Vision again as Clint and Natasha come running into the room. They leap into action and each take hold of Peter's arms, slowly prying him off of Vision. He fights against them, but their combined strength is enough to drag him away. That doesn't stop him from yelling, though._

_"You're so goddamn lucky Y/N wasn't here to hear that, otherwise you'd be dead right now!"_

_"Whoa!" Clint shouts. "What's happening here?" Peter doesn't even acknowledge him. His voice is low and intense._

_"There is_ nothing _wrong with Y/N. She is honest and thoughtful and kind. She is selfless and confident and happy. I'm grateful everyday that she's normal. Because I don't have to worry that she might not make it home. Or that she might die halfway around the world and I wouldn't know. It's a relief her biggest problem is figuring out how she's gonna survive the upcoming semester, instead of something like mine, which is how I'm gonna save an entire city every damn night!"_

_Peter is breathing heavily, no longer fighting Natasha and Clint. "I'm never scared that she'll be hurt like I could be. If she was...I don't know what I'd do. I don't know how she can handle always worrying about me. How she never seems afraid that I might not come home to her one day. I couldn't--I couldn't." He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. His face is full of pain._

_"Peter," Vision says carefully. "I didn't mean--"_

_Peter cuts him off, eyes wide open. "And you know what? Sometimes I feel like the freak, being 'super' when no one else is. Y/N makes me feel better. Being with her makes me feel like I don't have to worry about saving the world, or living up to the sky-high expectations of being an Avenger. I can just be Peter Parker, instead of Spider-Man. I can be a regular guy, and let me tell you, it's fucking great."_

_He yanks his arms from Natasha and Clint's grips and storms out of the room._


	6. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY it took me so long to update!! last semester was the craziest of crazies and i couldn't get into the right mindset to write over winter break but after rereading my fave series (aftg, my love) and reading some great fanfiction i finally understood how to write this. hopefully i did the story justice!

You find Peter, of all places, on the roof. Well, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had found him and told you where he was hiding, after you'd searched the compound from top to bottom in vain. She'd also had to direct you to the door leading to the roof since you'd never been up there the whole time you'd been visiting.

The sky is cloudy and gray, and you can sense a thunderstorm on its way - there's a dampness in the air and the trees wave as if in greeting. Peter is close to the edge near the door, staring out at the vast landscape. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he rests his chin on them. You're as quiet as you can be - which has been improved by Natasha's training - as you sit next to him. Peter knows you're there, but you don't want to break the vibe.

"I can't believe you never took me up here," you say quietly, and Peter's breath hitches.

"Y/N," he breathes.

You continue. "Been here two months and never even knew you could get up here."

"Y/N," Peter says again, a little stronger. "What are you doing?"

"Peter," you reply, your voice soft. "You know I've never been good at this."

It takes a second, but it eventually clicks. He looks at you, his expression half disbelief, half hope. With some courage, you meet his gaze and give him a small smile.

In a flash, he's sitting in front of you. He rests his hands on your waist and looks at you for permission. You nod, and he lifts you easily. Eventually, you're sitting in his lap with your legs wrapped loosely around his frame.

You smile. "Do I even weigh anything to you?"

"No," he replies, smiling back. "It's like holding a couple of grapes."

You start to laugh and Peter leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss, muffling the sound. You quickly melt into it and let it take you like it always has.

He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to find his still closed, and you marvel at how his dark lashes contrast his tanned skin. Peter opens his eyes suddenly and you're lost in them, the hazel looking like honey so close-up. Your breath leaves you and you have to work to whisper, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," and his voice is soft and sweet and gentle, and you ache because of it. "And I love you."

"Stop," you say, and pull back. "You're gonna make me cry and you know how much I hate that."

Peter catches your face in his hands and drags you back to him. "Y/N," he says, just as hushed as before, "I love you."

Tears gather in your eyes and you let them fall, because finally, you're crying about something _good_. Peter wipes them away with his thumbs until you're able to say, "I love you, too," and then he kisses you again. You'd missed this and his voice and _him_ so much that your heart fills to the brim and threatens to overflow.

You break away softly and lean back, sniffing loudly. You wish you had a tissue...and then one magically appears in front of you. You look at Peter curiously, who just shrugs.

"You always get a little stuffy when the weather changes like this," is all he says.

You laugh loudly, the sound echoing around you. Peter grins at it. You take advantage of the gift and blow your nose and dry your eyes. You sigh. "That's the second time this summer I've had to clean myself up without a bathroom or mirror."

"When was the other time?" Peter asks. "I don't remember you crying."

You take a deep breath and decide to just dive right in. "When I heard what Vision said to you. About me, and being normal."

Peter sucks in a breath. "You heard that?" His voice is laced with pain, but then his expression turns to one of confusion. "But if you heard everything, why--"

You cut him off. "I only heard what Vision said to you. I hadn't heard what you said back until today."

"Oh," he replies quietly. "When did you hear it?"

You hum, thinking. "About an hour or so ago."

Peter looks betrayed. "Why didn't you find me then?"

"Because it took me an hour to find you, dummy." You punch his arm lightly, but with your training, "light" is considerably stronger than before. He yelps and rubs his arm, but has enough sense to look sheepish.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"I know," you say simply. You grab his hands and intertwine your fingers. His thumb brushes yours, sending tiny sparks down your spine.

"Peter." He hums and looks at you. "I am _always_ worried about you."

His face contorts in pain, but you kiss the tension away. When you lean back again, there's only a small furrow between his eyebrows.

"You are?" He asks quietly.

" _Of course_ , I'm worried about you. You fly around the world, risking your life everyday - you think I accepted that right off the bat? It took me a long time to come to terms with that when I learned who you really are. And it's still hard to be fully okay with it, to know that I'm never going to _not_ be worried about you. You were right, Peter. I don't know how I do it everyday, and I don't know what I'd do if you didn't come home to me. But I do know that I have to, because my love for you is stronger than any of that worry. It's what keeps me going.

"And I trust that your love for me is what brings you back to me. I trust your powers and your control over them and _you_ to come home, because with great love comes great trust."

You smirk and Peter rolls his eyes at your lame pun. The remark should make him think you're not taking this seriously, make him angry or upset, but he knows that it's the only way you can get through this, and so you're grateful when he's not.

"I also trust the Avengers to take care of you, because it's obvious that they love you too. Not as much as me, but enough to reassure that they're looking out for you." You can sense that Peter wants to retort, but you stop him. "As much as you hate to admit it, you're not as experienced as they are, and you're still the youngest one on the team. So just accept their help once in a while, if only for my sake."

That keeps him quiet.

"Thanks for the compliments, by the way. They made me feel a little better in the midst of it all."

Peter smiles and kisses you softly. "They're all true," he whispers, his forehead against yours again.

"And it's also true," you whisper back, "that you're extraordinary. You are _not_ a freak because of your powers." His hands squeeze yours slightly. "You amaze me all the time. Not a day passes by without you astounding me because of what you are, what you can do.

"That being said, I'm also happy that I have that effect on you, that you can feel normal just by being around me. Because that's important to you, and so I'm doing my job as your girlfriend right. The fact that I'm doing it without knowing just shows how perfect we are for each other."

You have to stop because of the emotion tumbling through you, anxiety twisting your stomach. You focus on Peter's breathing, and the way his thumb is still stroking yours. His presence grounds you, and so you let the feelings run their course.

When you feel as if you can speak without faltering, you move on to the last and biggest topic. For this, you lean away, pushing Peter back gently, until the two of you are facing each other fully.

"About the training," you start, and Peter winces. You make your voice soften. "I understand why you did what you did. And I'm sorry that I kept it from you. I knew you wouldn't like it, but I shouldn't have hid it like a secret, because that's not what couples do. That's not what _we_ do. We trust and are honest with each other. And if I can't hold up my end of the deal, how can I expect you to?

"I love you, and I love your worry - it's good to know that I'm not alone there. But what you did was _not_ okay. You don't dictate my life and cannot make decisions about it for me. I am in charge, and I will do what I please, and you can either be okay with that or--"

"I'm okay with it," Peter rushes to say, cutting you off. "And I'm sorry too. I should've talked to you about my concerns instead of pushing them, and you, away. I know you," and you try to look away but he grabs your chin and holds your gaze, "I know you're not good with those things, and so I should've known what consequences would come of my actions.

"I don't want to be the boss of you. I fell in love with you because _you_ are the boss of you, and you never let anyone else take control of your life. And I love you even more now that you didn't let me take control either. I just didn't know how to deal with my emotions and I lashed out, and I'm sorry for that. I won't let it happen again. Or I'll try, at least."

You smile, trembling, and let your emotions say what they really want you to: "I love you so damn much."

Peter laughs, and the sound is so beautiful you could cry. But you don't, because _fuck_ , you're so happy.

Something cold lands with a shock on your cheek. You lift a hand to touch it and your finger comes away wet. You and Peter look up just as the sky opens and it _pours_. You gasp at the contact, and one look at Peter tells you that you're both drenched. You don't mind, though, because Peter's shirt is clinging to his body, and you can see the outline of his muscular abs quite nicely. Looking back up, you catch Peter's eyes roving over your chest before snapping to yours.

Pent-up sexual tension sizzles between you, and it takes only seconds before you crash together. Teeth crack as you both try to get as close to the other as possible; your legs tighten around Peter's waist and your arms snake around his neck, while his hands press tightly against your lower back. You gasp between kisses, unwilling to part for longer intakes of air, silently deciding that there's already been too much distance for so long.

You do what you do best and grind down, causing Peter to gasp loudly into your mouth. You swallow his subsequent moan as you kiss him deeply and do it again. This time, Peter growls. He tucks his hands under your thighs and lifts, taking the opportunity to stand fully. It's your turn to moan - at his power, his strength - and Peter lets this one echo. You lean back and glare; he just smirks in response.

Two can play at this game. You smirk back and he realizes too late what you're about to do: you lean down and _bite_ the junction between his neck and shoulder. He buries his face into your hair, and you can hear the low moan he tries to hold back. You quickly lick the spot to soothe it.

Peter slowly moves forward until your back hits the closed door. Once you're securely resting against it, Peter lets it hold you as he moves his mouth down your jaw and neck. You're panting as he nips, licks, and sucks, definitely leaving marks everyone will be able to see tomorrow. Somehow, you can't make yourself care at this moment.

You also can't help how your hips jerk forward when Peter mouths a particularly sensitive spot. It makes him gasp, his hot breath sending shivers over your exposed skin. He does it right back and the angle is _so perfect_ that you let your head fall back and eyes open wide in pleasure.

It only lasts a second, however, because then you're reminded that it's pouring and you're soaked and you and Peter are making out on the _roof_.

"Peter," you whisper, and gasp when he hums, feeling the vibrations run through you. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you try again. "Peter."

His lips part from your neck with a sigh, and then he's looking at you. You have to giggle at the sight: his hair is plastered to his forehead and rain trickles down his face, tiny drops steadily dripping from the tip of his nose. You giggle again, knowing you must look the same, and Peter smiles.

"I think I need a shower," you say as you realize just how wet you are. Lust settles in Peter's eyes and you smirk. "Scratch that. I think _we_ need a shower."

Peter just raises an eyebrow before he's tossing you over his shoulder and opening the door. You want to be mad at the manhandling, but instead you take the opportunity as he presents it to you and tickle his sides. He jerks as he steps inside, the atmosphere dry and warm and quiet.

"You keep doing that and I'll drop you," he warns and you scoff.

"You wouldn't," you reply, calling his bluff.

He doesn't refute it, just sighs. "You're really gonna get it now."

Your laugh echoes as Peter races down the stairs. He peeks out into the hallway, and after making sure no one's around, leisurely carries you to your room. The bedroom lock clicks behind you.

And if F.R.I.D.A.Y. sees you, she doesn't say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you like my B99 reference? :)
> 
> there will be one more chapter (if i don't wimp out on writing the smut) so pls stick around! hopefully it won't take me as long to update lol. and if you would, i'd appreciate opinions/comments on the light smut at the end of this chapter so i know i'm heading in the right direction!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you like it!
> 
> let me know if you have any advice about characterization of any of the characters - i'm not the greatest at that so i'd love feedback - or if i need to make the reader more vague or more broadly detailed - i've never written reader-insert fics and i usually use myself as a model. the only things i can't change are the reader's normalcy, since that's what it's all about, and the reader's tendency to be anxious and self-conscious since that comes up later (oops, spoilers!)


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